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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29196282">Another coat of paint</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polyhexian/pseuds/Polyhexian'>Polyhexian</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Good ending timeline, M/M, POV Second Person, Post-Canon, this is a dominus ambus hate blog</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:21:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,543</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29196282</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polyhexian/pseuds/Polyhexian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Brainstorm and Rewind are drinking and talking. Dominus comes up.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chromedome/Rewind (Transformers), past Rewind/Dominus Ambus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Another coat of paint</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Domeyyyy," you whine, pulling again on his shoulder to no reaction.</p><p>"You can shake him all you want," Brainstorm mumbles a few feet away, "He's out like a light."</p><p>The night had been a bust. Movie night, supposedly, but with Whirl and the star crossed lovers out for the night, no one else had showed up. No better excuse to watch bad movies and get skunked with your conjunx and Brainstorm than that.</p><p>You didn't used to like Brainstorm. You used to kind of hate him, actually. Looking back on it, though, you can tell now that you were <em> desperately </em> jealous and didn't have a good reason to be. You're glad you're friends now. You can tell it's taken a weight off Chromedome's shoulders to have the two of you getting along, and it's always good to have friends.</p><p>"C'mon, Domey, you're too big to be such a lightweight!" you groan and give up, flopping down onto your back on the berth. Brainstorm's in the desk chair, slouching down so low his armpits are on the handrests, feet kicked up on the berth.</p><p>"He's always been a lightweight," Brainstorm snorts, "You know that."</p><p>"I know that," you huff, "But somehow, I always forget."</p><p>Brainstorm chuckles and raises his bottle. "I'll drink to that."</p><p>"Ugh," you groan, offlining your visor, "I think I'm done."</p><p>"More for me."</p><p>"Tell me about him," you say, and then realize that's kind of vague, "Like, the first time you realized he was a lightweight, or something."</p><p>"Hrrm," you hear Brainstorm hum, taking a swig as he thinks, "He used to drink a lot, actually. Took him a long time to break the habit."</p><p>"Really?" you ask, online your visor "He didn't tell me that."</p><p>He waves a hand dismissively, "Yeah, yeah, I don't think he's hiding it, this was like, New Institute days. You know how janky his memories are from back then. I guarantee you he doesn't remember how we met."</p><p>You laugh, even though it's not funny. "He doesn't. I asked him plenty of times and he always answers something different."</p><p>"That's our CD," he giggles, "Doesn't even remember how he knows you, but he's just gonna keep showing up at your door cuz he knows he's supposed to."</p><p>You roll over onto your stomach, holding yourself up on your elbows to look down at him, peaceful in recharge. "You silly mech," you murmur fondly, "You can just say you don't know sometimes, you know."</p><p>"Aw, don't give him too much grief," Brainstorm snorts, "He forgets what he's forgot."</p><p>"Silly thing," you whisper, tracing a hand along his jawline to admire the flint of light on his visor. You've been through a lot together. You hope you have a lot more time still.</p><p>Brainstorm hesitates before he speaks again. "I've read <em> The Ascetic Cybertronian</em>, you know."</p><p>It takes you a moment to process and react and you perk up, rolling back into your side. "Oh, yeah? What did you think?"</p><p>You know every word of it by spark. Dominus had dictated it to you, lifetimes ago, and you'd laboured over writing and rewriting it to get it just right before you passed the draft back to him. You aren't credited, obviously, but you've always been proud of it.</p><p>"I found it confusing, honestly," Brainstorm admitted, reading the label on his engex.</p><p>"What part? The allusions to the Primal Codex, or the more grounded stuff?"</p><p>"Did you buy into all that stuff?" he asks, glancing up at you. You pause, a little taken aback.</p><p>"Well, yeah."</p><p>"Even the stuff about, like, pleasure being a distraction from the pursuit of knowledge or whatever?" Brainstorm continues, "The stuff about how you gotta let go of your emotional ties to others to focus on the ties to the self?"</p><p>You blink at him. "Well… yeah."</p><p>"It doesn't seem like you," Brainstorm admits, glancing away, "You're so outgoing, you know. The isolationist metatheology seems… I dunno. It doesn't seem like you."</p><p>You think about that. It does seem antithetical, but you know it's not. You just don't know how to explain it. "Dominus used to say that the only way to appreciate the whole was to stop focusing on the individuals. It was a way to try and decide what was best for everyone, not just the people you knew."</p><p>Brainstorm is quiet, staring at his bottle as he swishes it in a slow circle. "I failed the Ambus Test, you know."</p><p>It takes a few seconds for that to process before you reel back. "Huh?"</p><p>"Being forged is an auto-pass," he mumbles, "It's a lot more complicated when you're not."</p><p>"That doesn't make any sense," you argue, "You're obviously sentient. Why would you fail?"</p><p>"I've been asking myself that for a long time," he admits, "And I don't know."</p><p>You're silent for a moment. "I'm sorry."</p><p>"It's not your fault." He takes another swig of engex. "But I wonder."</p><p>"Do you want me to pull up his old notes?" you ask, "I've got tons of files on the Ambus Test from when he was developing it. I bet we can figure it out."</p><p>He looks up slowly, stares at you. "You still have those?"</p><p>"Of course I do."</p><p>His optics stay on you, seeing something in you that you don't. "No," he says slowly, "I don't want to know."</p><p>"You don't?" you ask, a little confused, "Why not?"</p><p>"Hate to break it to you," he mumbles, "But I don't really care what your ex-conjunx thought of me. I thought <em> The Ascetic Cybertronian </em> was exceedingly functionist, real elitist stuff. I don't put a lot of stock in his opinions."</p><p>You're taken full aback. "What, really?"</p><p>You think a few years ago, before the universe hop, before the time travel incident, you would have been angry with him. You would have snapped at him and stormed out of the room, furious with him for saying something like that. Now all you can feel is genuinely curious what could have possibly made him feel that way.</p><p>"It was so obsessed with what you <em> should </em> be doing, how your brain and your body can serve the greater good of society," he sighs, "It might not be the conventional "primus picked your alt mode for you" type functionist ideology, but it's all the same stuff. Your value is dictated by how you can contribute to the whole. Even going so far as to suggest if you have a mass produced alt mode you should change it to something more useful. It's all functionism, just with a different coat of paint."</p><p>You've never thought of it that way before. Not even once. You're caught without words, unable to formulate a response, staring forward at him as you slowly process the information. </p><p>He seems uncomfortable with the silence, because he speaks again. "He didn't even mention you." </p><p>"It was improper," you excuse, "At the time. It wasn't done. You just didn't tell people." </p><p>"The way he didn't tell you he was a turbofox?" Brainstorm asks, voice sharp, before he freezes, like he didn't mean to say that and shakes his head, "Sorry. I take that back. That was a dick thing to say."</p><p>You haven't quite gotten far enough in processing that thought to decide if it was mean or not. You're busy trying to think of a good reason why he didn't tell you about that. You've been trying to think of one for months, though, and you've not been able to.</p><p>"It wasn't…" you start, and then try again, "He didn't want to talk about it, I guess."</p><p>"I wonder," Brainstorm murmured, finishing his drink, "If he would have passed his own test."</p><p>Something in that hits. You can feel it in your spark, radiating outward along your internal mechanisms, through your fuel lines and rotor links. Something hot-cold and electric, unwanted. You shrink back, feeling oddly small.</p><p>"Hey," he says, looking up at you, "Are you okay? I'm sorry."</p><p>"I don't know," you answer honestly. "I don't like talking about this."</p><p>"...Let's talk about something else," he says eventually, mercifully. "But if you do ever want to talk about it. I mean. We're friends. I'll listen."</p><p>Something soothes the bitter sting inside you, at least a little bit. "We are friends," you murmur, "Yeah. I dunno. Maybe."</p><p>He considers you for a moment before he chucks his empty bottle into the bin on the other side of the room. "Nice! First try!" </p><p>"Third try," you correct, "You broke <em> two </em> earlier."</p><p>He ugly laughs. "Yeah, I did." </p><p>"I'm not cleaning those up," you remind him, flopping down onto your back again, snuggling up beside Chromedome who rewards you with a snore.</p><p>"We both know Chromedome will do it if we ignore it long enough," he snickers and you can't help but giggle.</p><p>"Exactly why you have to clean it up before he wakes up!" you scold him good-naturedly, "And all the label bits you've been picking off and leaving everywhere. Those too."</p><p>He sticks his tongue out at you. Something is still sick in your gut but you're not sure what. It feels a little better, though, after a little forced laughter and a change of topic. You'll have to think about it later.</p><p>Later.</p>
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